An Old Man's Saga Poem by Xelam Kan™
An Old Man's Saga
PRESENT
At dusk
when twilight falls
and dyes the sky
with stygian view, and turns
the blue and white into
an Orange hue;
till the darkness declares,
the night's feasts and fears.
(surely a teasing play of Nature,
where all feelings and fears of man
are figured like in a theatre)
PAST
'This often travels me back- in time
when we used to sit or thrashing around
(in such state of frenzy)
sweetly we hymned
some loving rhymes.
(like a tickling breeze, caressing your reddened cheeks)
But don't know how and when,
we got our hearts
cracked and coiled;
and had masked our smiles.
(who cut that string and
let our passion spoiled)
END
Now that
all those revelries had gone
that proved our flirting wrong,
(in these yawning hours,
sitting alone by the fire
and staring at the dying embers)
i find myself, only talk to myself,
and i wish
to resurrect the past
and wed again (my heart insane)
to those 'listless' sights and strains'...
(what else an old man can do
on such cold, misty eve)
Nothing but echoes the past.
very good writing, I like it, thanks. please read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 5:29:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
True, I find all the known words and expressions incompetent to translate the mood and emotions your verse has induced in me A pilot and an escort is getting ready within my mind. Excited and delighted, saddened and despondently lost all feeble knots of discernment, and a new heavy drop of insight has dropped over the colorless surface of my soul, causing ceaseless cadence, an amazingly rolling and swelling army of ripples moves to 360 degree of life span! ... i must sit silently in a cool cage scattering these emotions around and pick them to sort at its heights and shapes to make the most wonderful castle of appreciation for these cute, but enthralling word-domain you have invited innocent eyes like mine. God bless.. wait... the purest stream of unnamed passions yet to flow breaking the soft turf of time and its pale tall roots. Only the blessed descent of heavenly slant shower has to rift the dark mighty agitation of the boiling sea by the forlorn verges of skies and lands... wait.... Admit with all humbleness, and submit with prayers. Again.. wait.